


A Dash of Spice

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Major Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>GoGo and Honey Lemon decide their hectic lives have room for a kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bike

The orphanage was full of happy, smiling kids and Honey Lemon wanted to adopt all of them. GoGo had to remind her they only had room for one.

The one that really caught the engineer’s attention was a lanky brunette. She was standing by the window, staring at Wasabi’s car. Or rather, she was looking at GoGo’s mag-lev bike.

It stood on top of the roof, a striking yellow-and-purple against the calmer, more boring green of the car. Its wheels were slowly spinning, unaffected by the lack of a breeze that day.

“Woah.” She said.

“Magnetic levitation,” GoGo said as walked up next to her, “Zero resistance, faster bike.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I made it.”

The little girl did a double take of GoGo and the bike outside. Her eyes widened with renewed wonder for both.

“Woah.”

They stood there in silence, just watching it from the window.

“Can I ride it?”

“Depends. Do you know how to ride a bike?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a helmet and pads?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever crashed?” An eyebrow quirked, to show GoGo was very interested in this answer.

A pause. “… Yes.”

“Did you get back up?”

A vigorous nod. “Yes!”

“All by yourself?”

She puffed up her chest with pride. “Yes!”

“Did you need training wheels?”

“No.” She stuck her tongue out. “Too slow.”

GoGo nodded. “Can you reach the pedals?”

The little girl sighed and looked down at herself. “No…”

The engineer patted her shoulder. “Give me three days, kid.”

They came back with a miniaturized mag-lev bike, with speed limiters attached.

GoGo brought her tools to adjust it.

The girl stole them to take off the speed limiters.

She crashed five seconds after taking off, the biggest smile on her face, even as she lay sprawled on the ground.

The engineer had the removed limiters in her hand, and offered the other to the girl. “Did you do this?”

The brunette gave a sheepish smile as she was helped up. “Yes. Are you mad?”

“No.”

Her name was Vanessa. She insisted on riding her new bike all the way back to her new home. The adults firmly refused, Wasabi being especially vocal about child safety. They compromised and allowed her to poke her head out of the sunroof, her new parents holding her tightly between them.

“I don’t know,” Fred said, “She looks more like a Cinnamon to me. You know, brown hair, brown skin, looks like a stick?”

Cinnamon kicked him in the shin. “Good name, bad reason.”

From the floor, Fred rectified his error. “Okay, how about this: you’re a sweet little thing but you’ve also got a serious kick?”

“Much better.”

GoGo was starting to like her more and more.


	2. It's Rocket Science

“What happened?” GoGo asked as she stared up at the burnt hole in the ceiling.

_“Miha_ made a rocket.” Honey Lemon replied, also staring at the hole. Without moving her eyes or head, she took a picture of it.

“I thought you gave her a basic chemistry set?”

_“I did!”_

“I added some stuff to it,” Cinnamon said.

Honey Lemon looked at her daughter, put both hands on her shoulders, and knelt down until they were face to face. “Please tell me with what exactly, _miha?”_

“Fertilizer, _mama_. Methane is a great fuel.”

The couple shared a look. They didn’t know whether to be proud, concerned, or angry.

Honey turned back to Cinnamon. _“Miha,_ do you want to be a rocket scientist?”

“Do rockets go fast?”

_“Extremely_ fast, _miha.”_

“Can **I** use them to go faster?”

“Well, yes, _miha,_ but—“

_“I want to be a rocket scientist.”_

* * *

“Ma’am, these are as small as they make industrial grade safety gloves.”

“I need them smaller.”

Honey felt the women on the other end of the phone narrow her eyes. “How old is this ‘assistant’ you have, ma’am, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Nine.”

Beat.

“Nineteen! I meant to say _nineteen._ Look, she’s got really small hands, okay? It’s a condition.”

“I’ll see if I can’t custom order some for you…”

* * *

“Can I handle this one?” Cinnamon said, pointing to a beaker.

“No.” Honey Lemon replied.

“How about these?”

“No!”

“And that one?”

“Most definitely no!”

“So I can’t handle any of the fun chemicals?”

_“Miha,_ they’re called volatile chemicals, some of them Alkalines, and yes, basically.”

* * *

For legal reasons, they had to test the latest prototype in a bomb range.

“Commencing test flight in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!” Honey Lemon pressed the ignition.

From the safety of a bunker some distance away, they watched the monitors.

“Oh wow, the target caught fire.” Cinnamon said, pleased with herself.

“Let me check the high-speed and the computers…” Honey Lemon said, “Woah! The rocket flew faster than it could burn up the fuel!”

“The rest must have been thrown forward from the momentum and ignited on impact,” GoGo added.

_“Mama_ , what are you doing?”

“Calling  _ _Tío__ Freddie’s lawyers, _miha;_ I have some questions about patents…”

* * *

“Vanessa, what is this?” GoGo said as she held up her daughter’s latest metal-working project.

Cinnamon cringed. “It’s an attachment for my bike, mom."

“Does it involve rocket propulsion?"

“... Yes.”

“For the Science Fair?”

"Yes.”

GoGo shook her head. “Sweetheart, I am not letting you attach rockets to your bike. _Your_ rockets, especially.”

“What if I put a crash-test dummy in the seat instead of me? You know, just for testing?”

“If you dressed it up in proper safety equipment, and added tons of shock stickers—don’t try to change the subject!”

“Sorry, mom.”

* * *

“It’s going!” Honey Lemon cried.

The entirety of San Fransokyo Science High School watched Cinnamon’s rocket take to the air, faster and higher than any of the others before it. The judges made positive remarks on their clipboards.

“It’s still going…” GoGo observed.

Everyone’s heads turned to follow the rocket, trying to guess its trajectory.

“It's going into the parking lot…” Cinnamon mumbled, her grin turning into open-mouthed horror.

A distant explosion. A rather unique car alarm.

“MY CAR!” One of the judges screamed, dropping their clipboard, before taking off from the stage.

The Tomago family winced as one.

“Do you think this is going to affect my score…?” Cinnamon asked.

“We’ll apologize to the judge, _miha.”_ Honey Lemon said.

“Should we run after them?” The teenager asked again.

“That’d be best, yeah.” GoGo replied.

The Tomago family dashed off as one.

* * *

 _“Miha,_ you’ve got some very impressive rockets.” Honey Lemon put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, looking down till they were face to face. “Lots of people want them. Especially the military.”

Cinnamon smiled. “I’m not going to make weapons-grade rockets, mama. I just want to go faster, not blow shit up.”

Honey Lemon smiled, and pulled her daughter in for a hug, to hide the tears in her eyes. “I am _so_ proud of you _miha;_ you’ve come so far from that burnt hole in the ceiling all those years ago…” She paused and pulled away, looking her daughter in the face again.

“Wait, where did you learn that word?”

“'Shit'?  _Tío_ Hiro.”

_“Miha_ , I need to borrow one of your rockets…”

“Wow, hypocritical much, _mama?”_

“It’s not hypocritical, we’re sending  _ _Tío__ Hiro a message.”

“Didn’t you say I should use my words?”

“We’ll meet in the middle and attach a letter to the rocket, _miha.”_


	3. Justice and Rebellion

The quadrangle.

A large, unpleasant looking mountain of a teenager had picked up a much smaller, scrawnier, pimply faced peer. The bully started shouting, his victim started cowering.

In the background, Cinnamon dropped her tumblers, soda and juice spilling onto the floor. She reached into her bag, and pulled out a rocket and a lighter.

The bully reared his fist back.

Cinnamon lit the fuse.

Boom.

The victim is dropped, the bully runs away screaming, his hair on fire.

All around the quadrangle, teenagers rise up and cheer, and start to swarm their hero.

The video stops, frozen in an image of almost every one offering Cinnamon their accessories, sodas, and snacks in gratitude.

GoGo grins. Honey Lemon cheers. The principal coughs, and both women adopt serious, grim faces once more.

Cinnamon sits between her parents, idly working her way through her amassed stockpile of choice “Thank You” goodies. (There were far too many offers.)

“We do not tolerate rabble-rousers in our school, especially violent ones that set other students on _fire,”_ The principal explained, “And before you cry injustice, Mrs. and Mrs. Tomago, rest assured Mr. Bumi has also been dealt with accordingly.

“Vanessa is hereby expelled from this school. Here is a list of alternative educations you may provide for her. Good day.”

* * *

“Am I in trouble?” Cinnamon asked as she sat at the dinner table that night.

“Yes you are, _miha,”_ Honey Lemon said as she finished icing the carrot cake. She took a picture of the finished product before she took it to the table alongside a cake knife.

“Is it because I got expelled?”

“Yep.” GoGo answered as she set down three plates and forks for each of them. She dropped the tub of ice cream in the center, popped the lid open, and stuck the scoop in.

“And I’m getting ice cream and cake because of me beating Big Bad Bumi?”

“Yes, _miha,”_ Honey Lemon answered as cut her daughter an extra-large slice, “But next time, don’t set them on fire or beat them up; just use your words or call a teacher.” She served it onto Cinnamon’s plate and went back to cut hers and her wife’s slices.

“Why? You guys do it all the time as the Big Hero 6.”

A scoop of cheesecake ice cream fell to the table with a wet plop. GoGo flinched.

The cake knife fell with a clatter. Honey Lemon’s hands flew up to her face.

They opened their mouths to speak, but their daughter beat them to it.

“I have to know how to get information I shouldn’t have if I’m going to be a superhero,” Cinnamon explained.

“And where exactly did you get this?” GoGo asked, digging out a fresh scoop.

“Files from _Tío_ Freddie’s private computer—he should use better passwords.”

The two paused, and exchanged looks.

“I always thought _Señor_ Puffybuns shouldn’t have a fighting chip.” The teenager said as her cake was crowned with ice cream.

Honey Lemon slowly resumed cutting the cake. _“Miha_ , have I ever told you how frighteningly alike we are?”

Cinnamon nodded. “'Like the biological kid you could never have, except somehow magically adopted, as if by fate or something.’ as _Tío_ Freddie put it.” She started digging into her cake and ice cream.

The stunned parents sat down and continued serving.

“When _Tío_ Hiro makes me my suit,” She said in between bites, “I want it in orange and fuchsia.”

* * *

“So, _Señor_ Puffybuns is going to be my teacher now?” Cinnamon asked.

“Yep!” Hiro proudly declared, pressing Baymax’s access port to show off the new blue “Education” chip. “Since he was already designed to work with people all I really had to do was make this.” He tapped it with a finger.

“So how does it work, exactly? Home-schooling?”

Hiro explained it to her. “… And at the end of your lessons, you can use him for personal research and extracurricular stuff.”

“Interesting…”

“But no martial arts or weapons design, okay? Baymax is NOT just going to teach you combat techniques.” As a quiet aside, “Besides, Honey would kick my ass again if I let him do that.”

“Noted.”

* * *

Cinnamon set down her tablet, and yawned. She stood up from the couch, stretching her long legs to get the blood flowing back into them.

“Today’s lessons are concluded. Are you satisfied with my teaching?” Baymax said from his position in front of the coffee table.

“Yes, _Señor_ Puffybuns,” She said as she started stretching her equally long arms, “I am satisfied with my—actually, can you help me do something… extra-curricular?”

“But of course! Extra-curricular activities are an essential part of a holistic education.

The teenager started pushing the coffee table and the couch to the sides. “Right, right…” She started picking up and tossing stray items to a corner. “Do you know… capoeira?”

“No,” The robot replied, “Consulting my education matrix… Capoeira: a form of Brazilian martial arts, also used as a dance for performances or for recreation.”

“Yes, that exactly!” Cinnamon started stepping around the room, gauging how much of a buffer she had before she hit something. “Can you help me learn it?”

“But of course! You are learning this as a form of recreation, yes?”

“Uh… yeah, sure, let’s go with that!” She bounced on her heels, giving a few practice swings and kicks.

“My soft and huggable design prevents me from being a suitable dance partner.” Baymax explained, as an instructional video of the martial art loaded on his stomach, “I am, however, an excellent target dummy.”

Cinnamon stopped. “You’d let me hit you?”

“Of course! My soft vinyl coating and inflated insides are perfect for the speed and strength your physiology allows you. It is wise to strike me, as I will absorb the blow, and minimize stress and potential damage to your body, like a boxing glove and a punching bag rolled into one. Commencing instructional video on ‘Basics of Capoeira.’”

“Boxing glove… speed… strength…” Her brain started churning, completely tuning out the video. _“Señor_ , stop the video, _por favor!”_

Baymax did. “Is something wrong, Cinnamon?”

“No, no,” She started stumbling her way to her bedroom, “I just have an idea I need to write down really quick!”

“I shall be here for feedback and second opinions if you need me!” The robot called from the living room.

Cinnamon rooted for a pen. She found one of her old rocket prototypes instead.

Suddenly, she had an even better idea.

Nearly an hour later, she smiled and finally put down her pencils, admiring her first draft designs.

“Sorry to interrupt, Cinnamon, but I have done research on available classes on capoeira within the area. There is actually one that is within biking distance from your home.”

“Save it for later, _Señor_ , I’ve got an idea to develop!”

* * *

“No. No! Absolutely not!” Honey Lemon cried, vigorously shaking her head, crossing her arms through the air over and over again.

“But you said you were okay with it!” Cinnamon protested.

“I said I was okay with checking it out!”

“And…?”

“No capoeira. Street dance. Ballet. Traditional dances. But no martial arts!”

“Okay, _mama!”_ The teenager held her hands up, and casually waltzed away from the kitchen table back to her room.

Honey Lemon groaned and let her head drop to the table with a loud thud. She started running her hands through her hair.

GoGo stood up from her seat, walked over, and draped her arms over her wife.

“She’s not a kid anymore.”

“I know…” Honey Lemon mumbled into the table.

“And her biological parents were probably Brazilian prize fighters.”

“I know.”

“And she’s gonna sneak out to that class tonight anyway.”

“I know!”

Honey Lemon raised her head and wailed. She turned to GoGo, tears already forming in her eyes.

“Keep her safe, okay?!”

GoGo planted a kiss on her wife’s lips.

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything else tonight.”


	4. To The Skies

Honey Lemon laid the strange, collar-shaped device onto Hiro’s desk. “Baymax helped Cinnamon build this.”

“Strange design,” Hiro said, “What’s it for?”

“My daughter was trying to rocket-propel her legs, for faster, more powerful kicks.”

“Really?” Hiro’s eye brightened, “That’s awe—!”

Honey Lemon’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean… what I meant to say was… that’s terrible.” He was about to pick up the device to study it before Honey took it back.

“I thought you said Baymax wouldn’t help her with any martial arts or weapons.”

“I did! I programmed him with everything I could find! She must have found a loophole and—“

Honey Lemon slammed her palms onto Hiro’s desk, shaking everything on and around it. She leaned forward till she and the machinist were face to face.

_“Fix it.”_

Hiro gulped. “I will!”

Honey Lemon pulled back. The air was still simmering.

“I… I’ll personally supervise her next time, instead of Baymax, figure out how she works so it doesn’t happen again!”

_“Promise?”_

“Promise!”

* * *

Hiro sighed. “Cinnamon, I am not building you a supersuit.”

The teenager was undeterred. “I have the designs on this USB.” She said, holding it up for Hiro to see.

“No.”

“I already have working prototypes.”

“No!”

“I smuggled them into your workshop already, so we can totally start working on them right now.”

“…”

“If my parents ask, I sneaked in here last night and made it myself.”

Hiro took the stick from Cinnamon. “You know,” He said as he plugged it into the nearby terminal, “Sometimes I can’t tell if you want to be a superhero or a supervillain.”

The teenager happily watched her designs load. “Let’s meet in the middle and call me an anti-hero.”

* * *

“It’s beautiful!” Cinnamon said, tears already starting to form in her eyes. She stood just in front of the finished armour, propped up by a skeleton inside.

“Look at these boots!”

“Extra thick to absorb up to 120 MPH, rocket-propelled kicks, so you don’t crack skulls or your bones. Also outfitted with shock absorbers so you can always safely land on your feet.”

“Ah, these hands!”

“Outfitted with thrusters, for braking, gliding, and control.”

“You put in all the important focal points for capoeira strikes!” She picked up an arm, and started moving it around. “Is that—“

“Built-in servos? Yes. Minimizes the effort expended, and a safety measure for when the rockets kick in. (Heh.) They also absorb and spread around the momentum and G’s.”

“The rocket pack! Can I actually ski with it?”

“Of course! Horizontal flight, vertical flight, diagonal flight—any direction you want.”

“Twin thrusters!”

“Better fuel-efficiency, control, and if need be, speed. They also fire in the opposite direction for hairpin turns.”

“I love this helmet!” Cinnamon cried, picking it up off the skeleton.

“Aerodynamic design, extra sensors to detect potential collisions and obstacles in a 360 degree, 30 meter bubble. With extra oculars for enhanced peripheral vision.”

“It’s even in orange and fuchsia! Just like I wanted! _Gracias,_ _Tío_ Hiro!” Cinnamon put on the helmet, found it a snug, perfect fit. “When do I get to test it?”

“Oh, you’re not testing it.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I said I’d build you a supersuit, not let you use it, or even test it.” Hiro beamed, a smug grin on his face.

Cinnamon just nodded, taking the helmet off and putting it back onto the skeleton. “You know, my parents have a sixth sense about this. They’re probably on their way here right now.”

That wiped the smug grin right off Hiro’s face.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Want to call my parents and prove me wrong?”

Hiro did. “Hey GoGo, is—“

The man was forced to hold it at arms-length to save his ears. A long, extensive stream of Spanish profanities erupted from the phone.

Click.

Hiro pointed an accusing finger at Cinnamon. “Supervillain!”

“Anti-hero~!” She sang, a huge grin on her face.

Hiro’s face cycled between shock, anger, self-disappointment, fear, and finally, resignation.

“Tick-tock, _Tío.”_

“Put it on and meet me in the flight chamber…”

Cinnamon gave her uncle a quick kiss on the cheek. _“Gracias, Tío!”_

* * *

Cinnamon touched back down to earth, her boots making only a slight thump on the ground of the flight chamber. She opened her visor, and turned to face her mother.

“Am I in trouble, mom?”

GoGo’s glared at her daughter, and sighed. “Yes you are, sweetheart. A lot of trouble.”

“Is _Tío_ Hiro in trouble, too?”

_“Ow! Ow! Ow! Honey, use your words!”_

Spanish profanities filled the air once more.

“Yes.”

Cinnamon gave her a sheepish grin. “Are you mad?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to hear about how it went, before I’m grounded for all of eternity?”

GoGo smiled. “Yes.”

“Okay, so, not as fast as you. But, I can go up. Turn on a dime. And I can kick concrete blocks into dust.”

“Anything really interesting happen?”

“I flew into the control room window, and stopped at the last second. You should have seen the look on _Tío_ Hiro’s face.”

_“Nice!”_


End file.
